PART 2
No matter how I try to piece together a timeline of what happened next: it never adds up. I just can’t account for the hours that went missing…
After I pulled Thud onto my stomach, I put my hand on his tiny bottom and said, “hello baby”
I remember thinking, “he’s real!” because for 39 weeks, I’d struggled to believe the alien inside me was a real human with a face and fingers and a tiny bottom.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and the midwife had just told me to get my gown on and get on the bed.
I was 39 weeks pregnant and blissfully confused. I politely declined her offer. “Oh no thank you,” I said, “I’ll just go home now.” I went to leave.
She laughed in my face, “no dear, your waters have broken, you don’t go home. We’re inducing you” and that’s when my wall of denial collapsed and the panic of imminent labour hit me.
The contractions came on thick and fast. We watched The Block on TV. Well, Sarge watched while I timed my contractions. Every two minutes; I had an app.